Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

surprised himself by not mentioning Megs. But a thought had struck him during his call to Stan, that if Megs could identify the person standing next to Lorena, could she identify those Gilchrist did not know in the other photographs? A visit to Megs was fast becoming a must.
    He placed Lorena and Wee Johnnie to the side, and spent the next three hours going through every photograph, numbering them lightly in pencil on the back, making notes against each, cataloguing them in order of names he knew and those he did not. By the time he finished, it was almost five o’clock. The thought of a beer and a bite almost had him wrapping the lot up and heading to Professor Moriarty’s. Instead, he called Kelly’s mother, told her he was flying back to Scotland the following afternoon and asked if she would be interested in accompanying him to the Wishing Well.
    ‘That would be wonderful,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been back since Tom died. Why don’t I make a reservation? It sometimes gets busy.’
    ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I’d like to return your photographs. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow a few.’
    ‘Of course, dear.’
    ‘And you mentioned letters you and Tom received from Kelly. I think you may have forgotten to let me see the last one you received.’
    ‘Did I? I’ll look it out and bring it along.’
     
    The bar at the Wishing Well was unavoidable. Patrons had to walk past it to enter the restaurant beyond. Gilchrist escorted Annie by the arm, and she surprised him by saying, ‘Do you mind if we have a cocktail at the bar?’
    ‘Not at all.’ Gilchrist pulled out a stool and helped Annie to sit.
    ‘Thank you,’ she said, as he pulled his stool beside hers. ‘Tom and I always had a cocktail before we ate. Sometimes we never even made it to the restaurant. We would just start talking and before we knew it we were on our third cocktail and ready to go home.’ She shook her head with a sad smile. ‘I miss Tom.’
    Gilchrist surprised himself by squeezing her hand.
    ‘I miss Kelly, too,’ she said.
    Gilchrist felt his lips tighten. The thought that he had held Kelly’s skull in his own hands only two days earlier, had watched Dr Black build virtual skin and tissue around it, while this woman seated beside him had longed for some sight of her daughter for over thirty years, had him not trusting his own voice.
    Annie forced a smile at the bartender. ‘I’d like a vodka martini, Gray Goose, and go light on the martini. With extra olives.’
    ‘Certainly, ma’am. And you, sir?’
    ‘Sam Adams.’
    The bartender placed two coasters on the bar and removed a frosted glass from the fridge. As Annie leaned closer, Gilchrist thought she looked troubled.
    ‘I was so sorry to hear about Jack,’ she said to him. ‘Tom and I met him once, that Christmas we visited. Such a nice young man. So handsome, too.’ She looked at him then, her eyes a cold blue. ‘Can you tell me what happened, Andy?’
    So Gilchrist did, eking out details in a level monotone, as if the person he was talking about was someone he did not know. He did not mention that Jack was fast becoming the prime suspect in Kelly’s murder, or that his hit-and-run driver was now being sought for a recent arson attack, and more. When he finished, Annie gripped both his hands in hers.
    ‘Such a tragic story,’ she said. ‘Two young lives lost. With so much to live for.’
    Gilchrist nodded, not trusting his voice.
    ‘You still miss him,’ she said.
    ‘I do.’ It was all he could manage to say.
    Annie pulled back and smiled. ‘I think Kelly and Jack would have kept in contact after she left Scotland. And I think Jack would have visited her in the States. Who knows?’ she added with a wink. ‘He might even have emigrated.’
    ‘Why do you think that?’
    She delved into her handbag and removed an envelope. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Kelly’s last letter. This might help you understand how she felt.’
    Gilchrist took it, resisting the urge to read it there and then.
    ‘When you’re done with your investigation, I would like you to send it back to me. It’s all I have left of her.’
    ‘Of course,’ he said, and slipped the envelope into his jacket pocket.
    Their drinks arrived, and Annie lifted her glass and forced a smile. She chinked her martini against Gilchrist’s frosted beer and said, ‘To the memory of Kelly and Jack,’ and took a sip that made her face crinkle with pleasure. She replaced her glass on the bar